


roses

by ameliafuckingshepherd



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Flash Fic, Fluff, Mutual Pining, Natasha Romanov Feels, New Year's Kiss, One Shot Collection, Pining, Protective Steve Rogers, Secret Crush
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-07-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:55:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23657944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ameliafuckingshepherd/pseuds/ameliafuckingshepherd
Summary: A study on Steve and Natasha, and their relationship, through different oneshots.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Comments: 16
Kudos: 100





	1. New Year’s Eve

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A suggestive exchange on New Year’s Eve, then a kiss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is short and unedited but hopefully cute? Anyway, it was a plot I’ve always wanted to write

“Penny for your thoughts?” Natasha asks.

Steve jumps, almost drops his glass over the balcony railing. “Trust me, they’re not worth it.”

She leans against the railing next to him and tilts her head to the sky. “My least favorite thing about New York is that you can’t see the stars. I love the stars.”

“Then why don’t you leave?”

She looks at him, eyes electric green. “Where else would I go?”

And he really isn’t sure how to respond to that. The last thing we wants to do is give her suggestions that would take her farther away. The two floors between their suites in the tower already feels like a hundred miles. 

“Why are you out here, anyway?” She asks, picking up his slack in the conversation. 

He shrugs. “I guess I’m not one for parties.”

This, for some reason, makes her laugh. The sound is loud and clear and _magical_. He wishes he could bottle it and get drunk off it every day until he dies. 

“It’s New Years, Rogers, a holiday where you drink champagne and dance. How bad could it be?”

“Well, I’m sure it got a lot more dull when you came out here.”

She smiles with half her mouth. She’s unreadable, as always. Her hair is pulled back with glittering pins and clips that catch the moonlight. It’s grown out, shoulder length now. 

“You flatter me.”

And that dress...draping off her body like liquid gold...she’s gorgeous. But that’s not news. 

“You know, I’ve never had a New Years kiss,” he says, and he’s not sure why. She always knows exactly what to say and why, but Steve often feels that English is his second language. His first was always violence. 

“It’s just like kissing any other midnight.”

“I’d still like to cross it off my bucket list.” 

He’s playing with fire now, he’s sure of that. They hang somewhere between suggestion and blatant flirting, an infuriating grey area that she doesn’t choose to step out of. 

“What are you proposing, Captain?”

Green eyes meet blue, and he can swear on everything holy that electricity hums in the air whenever she looks at him. “Who says I’m proposing anything?” 

A roar goes up from the crowd inside. She says, “We should get back. It’s almost midnight.” 

She’s beautiful and smart and quick and deadly and everything he _isn’t _. “Why didn’t we go see the ball drop in person?”__

____

“Oh, please. With our luck, we’d bring stampedes of aliens with us and it would be last month all over again.” 

__

* * *

__

Steve is painfully aware of Natasha standing at his side while Tony leads the countdown. Ten seconds. She didn’t agree to kiss him, she didn’t agree to _anything_. He was so confident she shared his schoolyard crush-turned-obsession. Every signal she gives off around him screamed _attraction_. He’s stupid, or blind, or something along those lines. 

__

Seven seconds. 

__

She’s smiling almost childishly at the TV. She doesn’t think anyone is watching. 

__

Five seconds. 

__

She brushes a stray lock of hair behind her ear and adjusts the strap of her dress. 

__

Four seconds. 

__

She turns toward him. 

__

“You’re right,” she shouts over the people and the music and the announcer. “New Years kisses are...special.” 

__

Two seconds. 

__

She loops her arms around his neck. 

__

One second. 

__

She rises on the balls of her toes and kisses him. She tastes like cherries and bitter alcohol, and maybe just a little bit like lipstick. 

__

It’s not that he hasn’t kissed anyone before, he’s used plenty of girls, he’s just never kissed _her_. The moment he first shook her hand, he was completely and hopelessly taken with her. 

__

His heart stops, then picks up again, and he pulls her flush against him. He’s sure his cheeks are flaming red, and half their friends have taken notice. God, he’ll get so much shit for this later, but he can’t make himself care. 

__

Natasha pulls back, and her lips quirk up at the corners. “Happy New Years.” 

__


	2. Reckless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Natasha talk after a mission, featuring a brief exploration into Earth-616/Earth-555326 Natasha’s backstory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been rotting in my notes for at least a month and I finally made myself finish it
> 
> —some time after the winter soldier, set in the MCU but combines 616 Natasha’s backstory with MCU Natasha’s because she deserves to have superpowers

Natasha pours him a cup of coffee. She leans back in her chair at the kitchen table and drags a hand through her damp hair. “One hell of a mission, huh?” 

Steve nods. He wants to yell at her about how crazy stupid reckless she is. He wants to grab her by the shoulders and shake some sense into her, tell her that she’s only human. Humans do not run into fire and come out alive. He waited the flight home, then waited some more while they cleaned up. Now settled in the kitchen, her casual energy is contagious and he can’t find a reason to be angry anymore. So he just nods. 

Natasha takes a sip from her cup. She’s studying him. “You’re upset.”

“What gives you that idea?”

“Even if I wasn’t a spy, I’d be able to tell what you’re thinking. You have a horrible poker face.”

“Well, maybe I don’t have anything to hide,” he says with a half smile.

“Everyone has something to hide, Captain. It’s human nature.”

“Not everyone.” 

“You’re telling me you have no secrets? Everything in your life it out in the open?”

Steve thinks about the light pink that spreads across her cheeks when she’s complimented, and the minuscule expression she makes when she’s pleased (so unrecognizable you wouldn’t notice unless you really knew her). He thinks about the light feeing in his stomach when she looks at him, and the butterflies beating in his chest when their skin touches, and about every single time he’s wished they were something more than just friends.

“Sorry to disappoint.”

She says, “I’m sure you’ll make it up to me,” and he might be new to this century, but it feels a lot like flirting.

“You shouldn’t have gone back into the building today. It was reckless.” And he might not be so angry anymore, but he’s still scared.

“There were two civilians inside. I couldn’t leave them there.” 

“Natasha, people die. There are casualties. It’s part of the job.”

“No, it’s part of your job. You’re a soldier, but this isn’t war. Do you know why I defected?”

“No.”

“I was tired of taking lives. I decided I wanted to save them instead. And in all my years with SHIELD, I’ve lost eight civilians and ten agents. I plan to keep that number low.”

He tries to think of how many have died under his command. He loses count in the thirties. “That’s...admirable.”

“A long time ago, I realized I could never escape death, but I can do my best to stay one step ahead of it.”

“I get worried, seeing you throw yourself into danger like that. you’re my...” team member? Partner? Best friend? Crush? Hopeless target of his unrequited love? “Responsibility.”

By the look on her face, he thinks he might have chosen the wrong word to describe their relationship. 

“You’re not much older than me, and I didn’t spend most of my life frozen. If I was going to get taken out that easily, I would have half a century ago.” 

Steve looks up from his mug, frowning at Natasha. “You’re thirty. I’m pretty much a fossil.”

She smiles gently. “I was born in 1928, and was enhanced like you.”

“It doesn’t say that in your file.” 

“Fury didn’t need another reason for people wanting me dead. We had to cover our tracks.” 

“I had no idea. I thought you were just—“

“An ex-soviet assassin? A killing machine? A whore?”

He almost physically recoils at her suggestion.” No, god no. I always knew you were special, but I had no idea you were like me.” She’s so much more than that, she’s always been so much more than what they made her. 

“You flatter me.”

He isn’t sure how to respond to that. If he wasn’t so flustered himself, he might have noticed the blush creeping up her neck. He tops off his coffee and takes a sip. It’s disappointingly lukewarm. 

“Coffee’s getting cold,” he says, mostly to the table, which seems much easier to look at than Natasha. 

“Do you want me to heat it up? I promise microwaves don’t actually emit harmful radiation. Tony was just screwing with you when he said that. Totally safe, non radioactive coffee.”

He feels blood rush up his cheeks, and it’s only partly because he was tricked into a fear of microwaves for a few weeks. Jesus, everything she says makes his heart soar. It’s ridiculous. “No, it’s fine. We should get to bed, anyway. Debrief is at nine tomorrow.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” she groans. “Is it separate or are we going in together?” 

“You’ve got Fury, I’ve got Hill.”

Natasha stands up and takes their cups to the sink. “Good luck with that.”

Steve joins her in the kitchen, leaning his head against the cabinet. “I think she hates me.” 

“Oh, sweet Steve. She hates everyone.” 

“Not you. You’re her and Fury’s pet project.” 

Natasha barks out a laugh and turns towards him. She wipes her dripping hands on his shirt, which he would have complained about, but she’s so close he can smell her perfume. Floral, a little sharp. Maybe jasmine and orange. Honestly, he’s glad he’s on her good side. She has far too much control over him as it is. 

“I cause less trouble than the rest of you.”

Before he can stop himself, he says, “I’m sure you know how to get your hands dirty.”

“Steve Rogers, are you flirting with me?” Natasha asks in mock horror. 

“Depends on what you consider flirting.”

“I’m not complaining, captain,” she croons, leaning in closer. “It’s a nice color on you.”

There are probably a million sexy things he should say right now, but for some reason the only thing that comes out of his mouth is, “really? Because I think I look better in blue.” 

_he is such an idiot!_

“You’re too good to be true,” she chuckles, pressed half against him in a way that draws a lot of attention to her breasts. He looks away, because it’s beyond unprofessional to be this close to her, to even think of her in such a context. Off limits. She’s testing him, he’s sure. She wants to know what his limits are. 

“I think I’m gonna turn in,” he says, stepping back a fraction of an inch, because if he keeps touching her a minute longer, he might explode. Or be electrocuted. Or something equally as death inducing. His heart is pounding out of his chest. 

Natasha looks slightly disappointed, and considering her aversion to showing her emotions physically, he thinks it’s another part of her game. Her grand plan. Whatever that might be. Maybe she’s on another secret mission to get information out of him.

She steps away from him, moves her hand from its resting place on his chest to briefly squeeze his shoulder. A friendly and platonic gesture meant to comfort and reassure. He’s seen her do the same with Clint after a bad day at work, with Sam after watching The Notebook. 

“Goodnight, Steve.” 

He hopes he hasn’t burned this bridge completely in his subtle, self serving rejection. It isn’t that he doesn’t want her. 

It’s that he wants her so much he doesn’t know what he would do if he let things go any further.

(Every time she touches him, he comes closer to some miserable, fiery end.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> can y’all believe this was meant to end in a graphic sex scene,,I couldn’t bring myself to do it. I don’t know why, it’s not like I’m uncomfortable with sex. I’ve had it and I’m not opposed to talking about it but I guess my experience does not translate to writing because it feels like the one thing I really can’t write about. Maybe someday.
> 
> —inspired by Cage The Elephant’s _Trouble_ , particularly the line “I’ve been facing trouble almost all my life” or my slightly modified version, “I’ve been facing trouble like this al my life”


End file.
